Bbqjoe
Banned
The day held promise of a fine afternoon ride.
I fueled up my new two gallon tank and prepared for a trip to who knows where.
I also loaded up the crate with a bunch of huge psychotic zombie squash, thinking that whomever I might come across was not getting away from me without unburdening myself of my dear wife's insane squash harvest.
Today would have been a perfect day to take along a cold six pack of beer, except that I have already made a promise to beer and all his friends, and that is this: I won't consume them if they don't consume me. So I made some iced tea and filled my industrial sized, insulated sippy cup with it. A 2 liter bottle of water was filled for Abby, who never goes anywhere with me.
Even though I told my wife that I had no idea where I was going, I secretly thought to myself that I might go visit my friend John.
John is a good guy, sings and plays guitar at the church, and is a **** of a GC.
He eats everything he shoots, and he shoots everything. He's also the GC for the huge church being built in the middle of nowhere.
The pastor says God told him to build it. Kinda like Noah and the Ark thing, but I don't believe anything was mentioned about cubits.
The thunderous roar of the mighty Baja came to life on the first pull. Abby bolted from the house **** near tearing off her doggie door. If anyone here knows anything about Jack Russell's, it's that they love to go for a ride. They don't necessarily care with whom or where, just as long as it's a ride, and they get to go. A big truck is just as good as a skiploader or car, but Abby prefers the Baja. She thinks it's hers.
I hoisted her up onto the newly rubber covered gas tank, and off we went for an adventure, and to smother some poor slob in zucchini.
The first thing we came across was some roaming range cattle, which are quite new to her, and deserved every bark she could muster.
Next, we came across the largest desert tortoise I have ever seen. he was seriously on his way to somewhere, using the middle of the road as his guide. He was almost as big around as a frisbee or a dinner plate, and I estimated his weight between 8 and 10 pounds.
It occurred to me how cool it would be to have a live desert tortoise living in our back gardens. I thought about loading him up and taking him home. Then I thought about how awful it might be living in a cell with some hairy smelly child molester named Bubba.
I left Mr Turtle to go on about his way.
The sun was shining, and I could feel its heat on the back of my neck, a little more than I probably would have liked, so I decided on a break under the shade of a good sized Junipine. Most of us call them Junipers, but my friend from S. Africa called them Junipines.
We both had a nice pee, and a cool drink, I decided to have a cigarette. Abby doesn't smoke yet, and I'm trying to keep her from it, but if anyone knows anything about Jacks, they know they could probably get one and light it up.
As we climbed higher, the roads got better. They are less traveled, and I guess the folks who use them respect them because they know the blademan doesn't come around very often. We cracked the throttle and took advantage of what almost seemed like smooth pavement. I could tell the bike was feeling the effects of the thinner air, and I think Abby was too because she was acting dumber and almost fell off twice.
I've clocked this trip before in the car. I can't remember if it's 11, 13, or 17 miles, but I know for sure it's over 10 because I've done it before, and also because my butt was starting to get tired and sore.
We turned down the 2 mile road that led to John's house, and it occurred to me he must not like his road a whole lot. It was rather bumpy and full of ruts from this summers rains. That's just about when Abby almost gobbled sand.
I putted up one hill and down the next hoping I remembered where his house was.
I kept on going and began to think that maybe I missed it, or picked the wrong road. I was now however far it is from my place to his, and I was determined to find it.
His green gate came into view, and it's always open, except for when it is closed. He only closes it when he goes back east to Boston for a visit.
Today his gate was closed which led me to only one conclusion, John was not home, and was in Boston.
I was not to be able to see him. I was sadder that I was still stuck with this 20 lbs of assorted squash with no one to bestow it upon.
Garrison Keillor once said, this is the time of the year to keep your cars and doors locked. For if you're away, you might come back to find either of them jam packed with people's unwanted squash.
We turned around and started head back to whence we came. Up one hill and down the other, giving the bike a good throttle up each hill.
I was really enjoying the sound and the speed of each hill climb.
We climbed another hill and descended down the back side. When we got to the bottom, I gave it throttle to climb the next one. The engine went Varoom Zoom! But the bike didn't.
I gave it another. Varoom, varoom! andthe bike glided to a standstill, with the engine still running.
At this point,I had no idea what was wrong, and my mind began to race. What am I going to do?
It was then I thankfully remembered the cell phone, it was also about that time I remembered there was no signal there.
I shut the bike off, and Abby jumped down just like she always does when I turn it off.
I sat there very quiet and still, and not believing this was happening, I rolled a cigarette, and lit it.
I thought of every possible scenario.
A walk home would be hideous. There's enough water, not quite enough tobacco, nor enough daylight left.
Maybe someone would come along, maybe someone wouldn't.
What would I do if they did?
A walk home, a drive back to get or fix the bike, and another drive home would make for a very long night.
I took a last drag, and stepped on my smoke.
It was time to see what happened.
The chain was still together. The bike still started.
Could I have possibly blown up the TC, or did I break the belt?
I glanced behind me and saw no signs of a belt.
I opened my tool bag, grabbed my trusty 8mm wrench, and removed the TC cover.
I started at the front. The driver looked intact, and didn't turn.That's a good sign. To my surprise the belt was still there too. I freaked when I looked at the driven, which was still there, but it had no nut, nor anything to attach one to.
I Lit another smoke, grabbed my tea, and began walking back down the road looking for pieces or parts.
After a half mile I came to the conclusion I wasn't going to find them wherever they were, and then thought I might have been driving for days with a missing nut and didn't know it.
I walked back to the bike to inspect the matter some more. I also cursed the the sicko that came up with the idea of putting nylon inside a nut rather than using a lock washer.
The nut was gone, and I remembered the long bolt. I looked in back, and sure enough it was still there.
The key was barely hanging on to the driven, and i was grateful it was still there. I figured if maybe i had made it this far without the nut, maybe I could make it home if it went back together.
I grabbed the socket wrench to undo the nut on the driver. Yeah right!
Round and round the engine goes....
I knew I had no rope to stuff down the cylinder, and came to the conclusion I would have to Mcguyver something if I wanted dinner and to sleep in my bed.
I considered my shoe laces, but that just wouldn't do. I grabbed my knife and contemplated cutting up my shirt into strips to shove in there with Mr piston.
Unfortunately, I wanted to keep my shirt.
Fortunately, there was a towel in the crate for the puppy.
Unfortunately the towel lost.
I cut it into strips, and started stuffing while my mind wondered how I might keep the driven from disengaging again.
The nut came loose. I quickly took the TC apart, put the key back in place, and buttoned it all up.
Now to address the missing nut on the driven. I thought about walking up to a house and seeing if maybe they had one. I counted the houses I remembered seeing, and that added up to zero.
I looked again in my tool bag, and found a tiny hose clamp. I backed it all the way out to see if it would fit. Oh so close! maybe 1 turn left before it let go of itself.....viola! That was it. It fit and I clamped it down thanking the Lord. Just then I remembered it was him who let all this happen, and I took my thanks back.
He called me an Indian giver.
I reloaded my stuff, and smoked another cig in triumph.
I started the bike, Abby jumped up, and we were quite cautiously off.
Keeping an eye on the driven and the hose clamp proved to be a challenge while also driving.
As I neared the church I thought about the nut and stopping because he probably has a whole drawer full of them. I also thought about the fact that he doesn't eat squash.
He just visited me the other day, and I have enough Jesus in me for at least two weeks, so I decided to keep going and take my chances.
The bet paid off!
I made it home without a hitch.
Mcguyver would have been proud!
I fueled up my new two gallon tank and prepared for a trip to who knows where.
I also loaded up the crate with a bunch of huge psychotic zombie squash, thinking that whomever I might come across was not getting away from me without unburdening myself of my dear wife's insane squash harvest.
Today would have been a perfect day to take along a cold six pack of beer, except that I have already made a promise to beer and all his friends, and that is this: I won't consume them if they don't consume me. So I made some iced tea and filled my industrial sized, insulated sippy cup with it. A 2 liter bottle of water was filled for Abby, who never goes anywhere with me.
Even though I told my wife that I had no idea where I was going, I secretly thought to myself that I might go visit my friend John.
John is a good guy, sings and plays guitar at the church, and is a **** of a GC.
He eats everything he shoots, and he shoots everything. He's also the GC for the huge church being built in the middle of nowhere.
The pastor says God told him to build it. Kinda like Noah and the Ark thing, but I don't believe anything was mentioned about cubits.
The thunderous roar of the mighty Baja came to life on the first pull. Abby bolted from the house **** near tearing off her doggie door. If anyone here knows anything about Jack Russell's, it's that they love to go for a ride. They don't necessarily care with whom or where, just as long as it's a ride, and they get to go. A big truck is just as good as a skiploader or car, but Abby prefers the Baja. She thinks it's hers.
I hoisted her up onto the newly rubber covered gas tank, and off we went for an adventure, and to smother some poor slob in zucchini.
The first thing we came across was some roaming range cattle, which are quite new to her, and deserved every bark she could muster.
Next, we came across the largest desert tortoise I have ever seen. he was seriously on his way to somewhere, using the middle of the road as his guide. He was almost as big around as a frisbee or a dinner plate, and I estimated his weight between 8 and 10 pounds.
It occurred to me how cool it would be to have a live desert tortoise living in our back gardens. I thought about loading him up and taking him home. Then I thought about how awful it might be living in a cell with some hairy smelly child molester named Bubba.
I left Mr Turtle to go on about his way.
The sun was shining, and I could feel its heat on the back of my neck, a little more than I probably would have liked, so I decided on a break under the shade of a good sized Junipine. Most of us call them Junipers, but my friend from S. Africa called them Junipines.
We both had a nice pee, and a cool drink, I decided to have a cigarette. Abby doesn't smoke yet, and I'm trying to keep her from it, but if anyone knows anything about Jacks, they know they could probably get one and light it up.
As we climbed higher, the roads got better. They are less traveled, and I guess the folks who use them respect them because they know the blademan doesn't come around very often. We cracked the throttle and took advantage of what almost seemed like smooth pavement. I could tell the bike was feeling the effects of the thinner air, and I think Abby was too because she was acting dumber and almost fell off twice.
I've clocked this trip before in the car. I can't remember if it's 11, 13, or 17 miles, but I know for sure it's over 10 because I've done it before, and also because my butt was starting to get tired and sore.
We turned down the 2 mile road that led to John's house, and it occurred to me he must not like his road a whole lot. It was rather bumpy and full of ruts from this summers rains. That's just about when Abby almost gobbled sand.
I putted up one hill and down the next hoping I remembered where his house was.
I kept on going and began to think that maybe I missed it, or picked the wrong road. I was now however far it is from my place to his, and I was determined to find it.
His green gate came into view, and it's always open, except for when it is closed. He only closes it when he goes back east to Boston for a visit.
Today his gate was closed which led me to only one conclusion, John was not home, and was in Boston.
I was not to be able to see him. I was sadder that I was still stuck with this 20 lbs of assorted squash with no one to bestow it upon.
Garrison Keillor once said, this is the time of the year to keep your cars and doors locked. For if you're away, you might come back to find either of them jam packed with people's unwanted squash.
We turned around and started head back to whence we came. Up one hill and down the other, giving the bike a good throttle up each hill.
I was really enjoying the sound and the speed of each hill climb.
We climbed another hill and descended down the back side. When we got to the bottom, I gave it throttle to climb the next one. The engine went Varoom Zoom! But the bike didn't.
I gave it another. Varoom, varoom! andthe bike glided to a standstill, with the engine still running.
At this point,I had no idea what was wrong, and my mind began to race. What am I going to do?
It was then I thankfully remembered the cell phone, it was also about that time I remembered there was no signal there.
I shut the bike off, and Abby jumped down just like she always does when I turn it off.
I sat there very quiet and still, and not believing this was happening, I rolled a cigarette, and lit it.
I thought of every possible scenario.
A walk home would be hideous. There's enough water, not quite enough tobacco, nor enough daylight left.
Maybe someone would come along, maybe someone wouldn't.
What would I do if they did?
A walk home, a drive back to get or fix the bike, and another drive home would make for a very long night.
I took a last drag, and stepped on my smoke.
It was time to see what happened.
The chain was still together. The bike still started.
Could I have possibly blown up the TC, or did I break the belt?
I glanced behind me and saw no signs of a belt.
I opened my tool bag, grabbed my trusty 8mm wrench, and removed the TC cover.
I started at the front. The driver looked intact, and didn't turn.That's a good sign. To my surprise the belt was still there too. I freaked when I looked at the driven, which was still there, but it had no nut, nor anything to attach one to.
I Lit another smoke, grabbed my tea, and began walking back down the road looking for pieces or parts.
After a half mile I came to the conclusion I wasn't going to find them wherever they were, and then thought I might have been driving for days with a missing nut and didn't know it.
I walked back to the bike to inspect the matter some more. I also cursed the the sicko that came up with the idea of putting nylon inside a nut rather than using a lock washer.
The nut was gone, and I remembered the long bolt. I looked in back, and sure enough it was still there.
The key was barely hanging on to the driven, and i was grateful it was still there. I figured if maybe i had made it this far without the nut, maybe I could make it home if it went back together.
I grabbed the socket wrench to undo the nut on the driver. Yeah right!
Round and round the engine goes....
I knew I had no rope to stuff down the cylinder, and came to the conclusion I would have to Mcguyver something if I wanted dinner and to sleep in my bed.
I considered my shoe laces, but that just wouldn't do. I grabbed my knife and contemplated cutting up my shirt into strips to shove in there with Mr piston.
Unfortunately, I wanted to keep my shirt.
Fortunately, there was a towel in the crate for the puppy.
Unfortunately the towel lost.
I cut it into strips, and started stuffing while my mind wondered how I might keep the driven from disengaging again.
The nut came loose. I quickly took the TC apart, put the key back in place, and buttoned it all up.
Now to address the missing nut on the driven. I thought about walking up to a house and seeing if maybe they had one. I counted the houses I remembered seeing, and that added up to zero.
I looked again in my tool bag, and found a tiny hose clamp. I backed it all the way out to see if it would fit. Oh so close! maybe 1 turn left before it let go of itself.....viola! That was it. It fit and I clamped it down thanking the Lord. Just then I remembered it was him who let all this happen, and I took my thanks back.
He called me an Indian giver.
I reloaded my stuff, and smoked another cig in triumph.
I started the bike, Abby jumped up, and we were quite cautiously off.
Keeping an eye on the driven and the hose clamp proved to be a challenge while also driving.
As I neared the church I thought about the nut and stopping because he probably has a whole drawer full of them. I also thought about the fact that he doesn't eat squash.
He just visited me the other day, and I have enough Jesus in me for at least two weeks, so I decided to keep going and take my chances.
The bet paid off!
I made it home without a hitch.
Mcguyver would have been proud!
So has anything else happened in the last 10 Days? 